If our deranged leader wasn’t so epically deranged or even if he was just a little less corrupt and narcissistic, today would mark the end. The end of his fraudulent fundraising. The end of seditious tweets. The beginning of a new time.
But no. He vows to fight on. It seems to me the only thing left in his quiver is the declaration of martial law (or “Marshall law” as they say over on Parler).
Some electors are meeting in secret because — well? Because of threats of violence. Or maybe they haven’t finished disinfecting their official halls after Giuliani’s visit.
Aldo, early voting begins in Georgia today.
Are we all still, on some level, holding our breath?
Meanwhile, Netflix comes to the rescue here and there. I recommend The Forty Year Old Version. Biopic — the name, the genre explored (including this movie) in the NY Times magazine section yesterday.
And for a hilarious episode of The Great British Baking Show, check out the Derry Girls episode. Picture: icing being smeared on with fingers, barbs being traded across the tent.
Also, puzzles. Every Christmas for the last few years we’ve set up a table for a casual group effort. This year, of course, it’s a two person effort, but it still satisfies. We are on puzzle number three and it is by far and away the hardest.
Last night I dreamt I went into a restaurant to meet a friend and the place was packed (packed!) and I’d forgotten my mask. That, these days, constitutes a nightmare.
There will be one trip to the post office this week — eeek! Otherwise, it is all Amazon all the time, I’m afraid.
I’ll leave you with some altar shots (hello heart by Hazel!) and a couple more Christmas-y pix.